Frozen Hearts Fractals
by sakume
Summary: A collection of fanon side one-shots from my main fic entitled simply: Frozen Hearts. Mostly involves Hans and his brothers in different scenarios. Rated T just to be on the safe side, but more likely a K plus. Enjoy!
1. Horatio's Tall Tale

**A/N: A one-shot for my FrozenHearts fanon popped into my mind! If you haven't read Frozen Hearts, the fic this one shot is based on, no worries! You don't have to know it to enjoy it, although those who do might catch a little more! (The timeframe for this piece is set just a little while after an infamous "accident" of the Southern Isles family, so, yes, I consider at least this one part of my canon). Set-up: Horatio decides to help his youngest brother sleep but things don't go exactly as planned…**

**Horatio's Tall Tale**

The moonlight flooded through the windows of King George's castle, casting glowing beams through the glass, coming and going as the clouds drifted by overhead. It was a cooler than usual September night in the Southern Isles, so many of the windows were shut, but the curtains were left parted to allow natural light in for the servant's use. Horatio knew his way along these halls well, for he preferred to spend most of his time indoors, unlike some of his other brothers. He walked at a steady pace, his gaze set nowhere in particular, his mind wandering. He stopped before his destination, cracking the door and letting it swing gently open, walking inside the room.

Books. Books everywhere. Most royal families had large libraries, but the contents tended to differ. Some were composed solely of reference materials, others of history or cultures or even family lineages dating back decades or centuries. Horatio had seen three libraries in his life besides his own, most on visits to other countries, and none were as large and varied as his own family's. He brushed his fingers over a stack of books lying on one of the several tables, letting his fingers rise and fall silently over the ridges of the spines.

He had always loved reading. He learned to sound out words at an early age of four, moving on to reading chapter books by the time he was five. Since then he had found solace in the fantasy worlds the writers wove on the pages. He could forget the unchanging, constant world of numbers, facts, and finances he was being trained in, the calculated world where emotion did not exist. He passed by the chessboard resting on the polished coffee table, the glass pieces reflecting the moon's glow. Rounding the corner of one of a few chaise lounges, he suddenly came to a full stop. "Hans?"

His youngest brother was sitting in front of the fireplace, where only embers glowed now, a blanket wrapped about his shoulders and pooling around his feet, his stuffed horse smothered among the cloth. Hans looked up at Horatio with wide eyes, his body language making it clear he had not expected to be caught. He bowed his head, awaiting the scolding which he seemed to expect.

Horatio strode over to the little boy, hands placed on his hips. "What are you doing still awake?" He glanced at a decorative clock in the room resting on the shelf over the fireplace, vaguely taking note of the design. It must have been a gift, because it had no insignia for the Southern Isles anchor crest, nor the royal colors of purple or blue. The hands read somewhere around nine-twenty, far too late for his youngest brothers to be up and about. Hans was silent until Horatio crossed his arms in front of his chest and tapped a foot. "Well?"

Hans reached over and took his stuffed horse in hand, squeezing it close. "I'm sorry…" he whispered. His words had been few and far between since the tragedy had befallen, even to their mother and father. "I had a bad dream…"

Horatio gave pause after hearing this, stern lines softening on his face. "The dream about the cold and the ice?" His brother nodded reluctantly, going back to cuddling his horse as if it needed the comfort as much as he. The older prince dropped his gaze and bent on one knee, putting a hand to his brother's forehead. His skin was dotted with perspiration, heated and flushed with classic signs of fever. "Hans, you need to go to bed. I'll fetch mother and inform father of your condition."

"No." His protest was a mix of petulance and pleading, more so the latter. "She asks me about my dream…I don't wanna tell again."

"Why not?" Horatio asked, arching his eyebrows.

"Because I have to remember it again," his brother mumbled, shaking his head as he buried it among his horse's yarn mane. "And I don't wanna remember it again."

Horatio hesitated as he stood to his feet, considering the ramifications of his choices for a few moments. Though Hans was hot, it did not seem such a drastic change from his recent conditions. If telling his parents were to upset his little brother, it may only worsen his sickness. He sighed deeply through his nose. He couldn't remember ever having much trouble falling asleep as a child, but he did recall enjoying stories being read to him by the servants. Maybe that was the simplest answer. "If I read a story to you, will you promise you'll try to sleep afterward?" he asked.

Hans emerged from his feeble curl with sad eyes, looking at Horatio. "You would read me a real story?"

Horatio scoffed and waved a hand. "If it will get you to sleep, yes. But the correct way to phrase it is this: Would you really read me a story. There is no such thing as a fake story as opposed to a real one."

Hans tilted his head, a bewildered expression washing over his features.

"Nevermind." Horatio shrugged, approaching the library shelves and running his fingers along the hills of bookends, following titles and passing those he knew would be of no interest to his youngest brother. "Ah, yes, here we are. Grimm's Fairy Tales, that should be appropriate." He removed the book and flipped among the stories. "Yes, Cinderella will do just fine with a little simplifying." Holding his place with a finger, he knelt by his brother and cleared his throat, holding it aloft to use the moonlight to his advantage. He expected lulling his brother to sleep would not take long.

"Once upon a time…" he began.

"Horatio?" Hans asked, his voice weak from exhaustion.

Horatio made an obvious sound of disgruntlement. "What now?"

"I can't see the pictures," whispered Hans.

Horatio sighed and bent down, sitting with his legs crossed, patting the floor beside him. His little brother crawled over next to him, hesitating. "Well? What are you waiting for?" Horatio asked, frowning a little impatiently. "Come on." Hans gave a little grunt and crawled right into his brother's lap, adjusting himself and leaning against his brother's chest as Horatio lowered the book in front of him. "Well? How's that? Can you see alright?"

"Mmhm…" Hans murmured, clutching his stuffed horse in one arm and leaning against Horatio's chest comfortably.

"Good. Now… where were we… ah, yes. Once upon a time… there was a little girl. She lived alone with her father, her horse, and her dog. She was very happy." Hans nodded and traced the picture of the little girl in the book. "But her happiness was sadly not to last, as her father caught ill. To provide for his daughter, he remarried. The woman was cruel, selfish, and unkind, but her nature was not revealed until far after the wedding took place. She renamed her daughter Cinderella and she was forced to work for her living among the cinders, serving the woman's two daughters who-"

"Hey, what are you doing in here?"

Horatio turned to see one of the twins, Henning, entering the room, looking puzzled. Horatio turned his attention back on the book. "We were reading a story."

"What story?" came another voice as Hedvil followed shortly after.

Horatio sighed audibly. "Cinderella."

"That's a good one; I haven't heard that one since I was a little kid!" exclaimed Hedvil, clapping a hand on his twin's shoulder. "Hey, let's both listen in, Henning! You don't mind, do you, Horatio?"

Horatio turned his focus back on the story. "Just try not to interrupt. Now, where was I? Oh, yes… Cinderella was put to work serving the woman's two daughters who-"

**Grrrrrrn!**

A groan of protest screeched out as the twins dragged a chaise lounge over next to Horatio. He shot them a glower and was silent for a moment until the twins, seated next to each other, gave him an encouraging little wave.

Horatio ground out the words between gritted teeth. "The woman's two daughters who-"

"Can she have twelve other children?" Hedvil asked.

"Oh, twelve other sons!" Henning added with a wild nod. "it's more realistic."

Horatio glowered at his twin brothers. "I'm not reading this story for you, I'm reading it for Hans, who _should_ be asleep."

"It's okay," Hans said softly, nestling back against his brother's chest. "I don't mind."

Horatio inhaled a thin breath through his nose. "Cinderella's stepmother had twelve older sons, who were not very kind to her. They were jealous of her beauty, her grace, and her kindness."

"That's mean of them," Hans murmured, leaning against his brother's chest.

"Yes, it was. Family members should be faithful to forgive one another." Horatio flipped the page. "No matter what the circumstances."

"Like us." Hans said, looking back at his brother. "Right?"

Horatio was silent for a moment, his eyes looking beyond Hans, but then he nodded. "Right. One day, news came to Cinderella's household-"

"I thought I heard voices coming from in here. What's going on?" A new presence came from the hallway- the tall, broad-shouldered figure of Hubert, clad in his night dressing gown.

"We're telling a story." Horatio stated, turning back to his book. "Come in and listen if you like, but please, no more interruptions. At this rate I'm going to be twenty-nine before we finish." Hubert seemed to debate for a moment, but finally moved over and sat down beside the twins, leaning back in the chaise. "As I was saying… yes, Cinderella's household received news, news grand enough to set the entire house into an _insane frenzy_," he emphasized.

"What's an insane frenzy?" asked Hans.

"It's…" Horatio paused and thought of the best way to explain this. "It's like all of us," he pointed at the brothers one by one, "sitting down together for the same dinner."

"Ohhh…" Hans mouthed, nodding understandably.

Horatio continued, "The news was about a grand ball being held in the kingdom."

"A grand ball? Where's a grand ball?" questioned a new voice. The oldest of the brothers opened and closed the library doors behind him. "I followed Hubert here intending to play him in a match of chess and I stumble into some interesting news!"

Horatio sighed and served Harvard an annoyed look. He was stunned when one of the twins spoke up in his stead. "Can you believe him, Horatio? Just waltzing in like he owns the place."

Henning nodded. "Well, he will one day, if father passes away before he marries elsewhere, but you're absolutely correct, Hedvil, it _is_ terribly, terribly rude of him to interrupt Horatio in the middle of his story-telling."

"Quite right," Harvard agreed with a regretful look to Horatio. "My sincerest apologies, brother. Go on with your story. I'll listen until you're finished."

Horatio shook his head. "Yes… so… where was I? The news, yes, the news came about the ball being held because the prince was seeking a bride to be."

"Ewww…" Hans said, wrinkling his nose.

A few chuckles came from the audience. Horatio shrugged a shoulder. "Yes, I know, you think that's… erm… how would you put it… yucky. But you may find someday you like the prospect. Regardless, Cinderella was determined to attend." He paused, but to his surprise, there was no interruption. Straightening, pleased, Horatio continued. "In order to attend such a fanciful affair, Cinderella's stepmother knew she would have to wear a ballgown, for which she had no money to buy the materials."

"What did she do?" Hans asked.

"Well…" Horatio paused as he turned the page, then another. Hans being so young was unlikely to understand certain pieces of the story, especially the bits about a tree growing from Cinderella's tears and so forth. He would have to simplify it, and he feared the longer he took, the more interruptions he would get. "She was good friends with the animals nearby their home, and she asked them for help in finding a proper dress. The birds loved her so much they threw down a dress for her to wear."

"What did it look like?" All heads turned to see a young prince standing half-inside the library holding a teddy bear in one arm, rubbing sleep from his eyes, which were now bright in excitement.

"Heins… why are you awake?" Horatio frowned at his younger brother. "You should be asleep. Have you any idea how late it is?"

"Um…" Heins looked at the ground in thought a moment, then back up at his brother with an innocent grin. "Not too late?"

"I'm afraid it's just the opposite," Horatio said, shaking his head. "Now go on, head to bed."

"But I want to hear what it looked like," Heins said morosely, hugging his teddy bear to his chest.

"You want to hear what… what looked like?" Horatio asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"The dress. You were talking about a dress. I want to hear what it looked like," Heins said, lingering. "Please? I promise I'll be really quiet."

"Well…" Horatio hesitated at the sight of his brother's hopeful expression. He already had half of his family here, what harm could it do to allow one more straggler, especially when the story was more suited for his age group? "Oh, alright."

Heins brightened into the normal ray of sunshine he was, quickly scampering over next to Hans and snuggling up next to his brother. "Okay, I'm ready."

"As am I. So, as I was saying, the animals, birds, specifically, threw down a lovely gown for Cinderella to wear to the ball," Horatio continued. "She put it on and to the festival she went."

"Wait!" Heins said, cringing as Horatio scowled at him. "I'm sorry… b…but you didn't say anything about what the dress looked like."

"It's not important," muttered Horatio with a wave.

"Why?" asked Heins, face scrunched in thought.

"Because saying it's lovely is sufficient."

"Why?" Heins repeated stubbornly.

"Because lovely is enough description," Horatio countered.

"Whyyy?" Heins drew out, looking sad at the lack of a picture.

"Because the Brothers Grimm who wrote this book felt expanding on the fashion details of Cinderella's gown was not important."

Heins inhaled a little breath of shock, looking at his brothers in horror. Then he looked to Horatio and opened his mouth as if to ask the same question.

Horatio knew what was coming and shook his head firmly. "And do _not_ ask me why."

Heins paused, resting his chin on his teddy bear for a moment, and then turned back to his older brother. "Why not?"

Horatio groaned out loud and leaned back, putting both hands to his scalp and running them through his hair. "Please, _please,_ just listen to the story!" He waved a hand. "The dress was silver and gold and silk and the shoes were pearl-lined satin! There, are you satisfied?"

Heins beamed from ear to ear, nodded, and snuggled back against his brother's side. "Mm-hm."

"So, Cinderella put on the gown and went to the festival celebration at the castle. She found that when she was there her sisters did not recognize her. They thought she was still home sitting in the ashes and doing chores."

"That's mean of them…" came a soft voice from the doorway. Horatio glanced over to see Harry, one of his other younger brothers standing there. Dropping his gaze and shaking his head, he simply waved a hand with a motion for his brother to come over and join them.

After he'd done so, Horatio continued. "She danced with the prince there, who swore he'd dance with no other partner. She eluded him when he insisted upon escorting her home, and when her family returned home, they found her sleeping amidst the ashes wearing her old clothing." He waited, but there was no interruption. Pleased, he went on. "The next day the birds brought her an even more beautiful dress than the first, which she donned when she went to the festival. The prince was so enamored with her he would not dance with anyone else."

"Good," Hugo established. "If he's the prince, he deserves nothing but the best."

"When did you get here?" Horatio asked, quirking an eyebrow at the new presence of his brother, sitting on the chaise lounge in Henning's place, who was pouting next to his twin on the floor.

"Oh, a few moments ago," Hugo said with a wave of his hand as if it didn't matter. "Go on, explain what happens next."

Clearing his throat, noting how many of his brothers were around him listening, Horatio continued. "The ball again went well but again Cinderella evaded the prince by running away when he asked to escort her home."

"Stupid girl…" grumbled Hugo. "You think she'd know better. It's not as if she'll ever get another chance to be in the company of royalty."

"On the third night of the festival, which was also the last night, Cinderella was gifted the most beautiful gown yet-" He caught Heins' subtle lean forward, his smile widening as he listened, and added, "a gown made of the finest materials in the land, lined in sheer white lace and with golden slippers studded in diamonds." He turned the page. "Once again Cinderella tried to flee when the prince asked to escort her home, but this time the prince had set a trap for her." The littlest ones gasped. "The prince had set pitch all over the stairs, and Cinderella lost her shoe among it."

"Oh _no_!" Heins gasped, squeezing his teddy bear close. "Her poor shoe!"

"If he'd spread more, maybe he'd have caught her, too!" exclaimed a lively voice from the library doors, which now swung open. "Hey, I bet Dad would do that for my birthday next week! We even invited the princesses from Arendelle! Who knows the possibilities of how many I could end up with?"

Helm frowned at his brother as he followed in behind him. "Heinrik, be quiet, you're going to wake up-" He gaped at the group of his brothers crowded around the center of the room.

Heinrik flashed a smug smile at his brother. "You were saying?" He dragged a chair over to join his brothers, sitting on it backwards and grinning. "Go on! Tell us more about how this prince managed to get his girl!"

Horatio shook his head with a sigh. "Worst butchering of Cinderella I've ever heard…" He continued with a clearing of his throat. "The prince began to search the land, using the shoe to try and find his bride. When he arrived at Cinderella's household, the stepmother encouraged-hm." He stopped. _But she doesn't have two stepsisters in this version. She has twelve brothers. And they certainly can't pass for princesses. _

"Is there a problem?" asked a new voice with a dull edge to it. Horatio looked up, but he already recognized the voice as Harken, who stood in the doorway with crossed arms. "I do hope I'm not interrupting."

"No, it's alright. Come in, we're nearly finished." Horatio chewed his lip. "So… the stepmother encouraged Cinderella's twelve brothers to keep her away while the prince visited their home, thinking the prince would never find her in time."

Harken narrowed his eyes as he approached. "That's not what happened… I remember that story. The step_sisters _wanted to wed the prince so badly they were willing to cut off their heels and toe, respectively." At this last statement, he grinned, exposing a toothy white smile.

Harry stared up at his big brother in horror, and then looked at Horatio. "Is… is that true?" Hans turned to face him as well, a vulnerable look etched on his face.

"Of course it is. Go on, tell them the truth. The only reason they were caught was the blood pooling out of the shoe. It's in the story, isn't it, Horatio?"

Horatio scowled at his brother. "Not in our story, it's not."

Harken crossed his arms and huffed. "Well, why not? It's so deliciously disgusting."

"Well it isn't in ours. In ours, as I was saying, the prince came to Cinderella's house looking for her."

"_What_ is going on in here?" All eyes turned to face the final missing piece of the family, Harald darkly glowering at the family gathering. "Why are we all gathered in the library in the middle of the night like a bunch of ladies at teatime?"

"We're… reading a story," Horatio said in a quiet voice.

"A story?" sneered Harald, striding inside and staring down at all present. "You mean to tell me you gathered everybody here to hear a story?"

"I… started with just reading to Hans," Horatio explained. "He was awakened by a nightmare and I wanted to help him back to sleep."

"A nightmare?" Harald repeated, walking over to Hans, who he towered over in height. "Whatever about?"

Hans shrank away from his brother's penetrating gazes as all eyes turned on him.

"He doesn't want to repeat it. I'm sure we can all imagine what it was about." Horatio turned to look from side to side.

Harald stared for a moment, the room settling in a still, eerie silence. Then he moved to take the book from his brother. "The story is over now."

"But… but we were only getting to the good part," Horatio held it out of his reach. "The part where the captain of the guard has to help Cinderella!"

Harald paused, his fingers inches from the book. "I don't remember that."

"This is _our_ story. And we say what happens. So if we're coming to the part where the captain of the guard has to help Cinderella, we are." Horatio said firmly, making eye contact with his brother.

Harald's eyes shifted to the left, and he slowly retreated, pointing at the twins. "You two, make a fire. It's too cool in here. And someone get off the lounge. I want to be comfortable when I hear the ending." Begrudgingly, the brothers did as they were asked, and soon the story was continuing.

"The stepmother's twelve sons hid Cinderella successfully and the prince returned to his castle, saddened. However, upon helping the prince back into his carriage, the captain of the guard noticed the brothers laughing amongst one another. Suspecting that something foul was afoot, he encouraged the prince to arrive unannounced to check once more."

"And?" asked Harald, who seemed almost eager to hear more.

"And the prince did just that. Upon returning on the captain's suggestion, he found Cinderella in the gardens, found the slipper to fit perfectly, and took her to his castle to be the princess of the kingdom. And, thanks to the captain of the guard, they lived… happily ever after."

Several of the spectators erupted into clapping, cheers, or the sparse whistling. It only died down at the sudden sound of a deep, but quiet voice.

"Will someone tell me what's got you all in the same room and yet keeping it intact?"

The brothers turned to look as the great, broad-shouldered figure of the king walked inside the library.

"Goodnight!" exclaimed Heinrik, vaulting up and walking towards the library doors.

"Yes, goodnight!" echoed the twins, following suit.

George nodded to each of his sons as they left, imparting hugs to the younger ones, waiting until only Hans, Horatio, and Harald were left. Then he approached the fireplace. "So, who wants to explain?"

"I had a bad dream," Hans whispered.

"I was reading him a story, is all. I promise, it was appropriate," Horatio said, watching his father approach and tucking his hands behind his back in respect.

George bent over Hans and swept him into his strong arms, his lips parting as he exhaled a short gasp. "Hans, you're burning up. We must get you to bed immediately." He looked to Horatio with a stern gaze. "You should have known better than to read him a story when he's clearly so sick, Horatio. I'm surprised you of all people would not be able to think ahead in this case."

"Father." George turned to look at Harald. "Hans does not seem to have changed for worse as of late. His condition is not so severely different to demand such drastic measures. As I understand it, Horatio was trying to help Hans get back to sleep. If anything, he was being compassionate, one of the traits which so clearly makes a prince, according to our creed."

George just stared at Harald for a long moment, nodding finally as he hoisted Hans up into the crook of his arm, where the boy rested his head on his father's shoulder. "I see. Well… in that case… well done, Horatio. Very well done."

Harald brushed past Horatio and bowed to his father. "Goodnight, your highness."

George watched him leave and gave Horatio a brief nod. "Goodnight, my son. Sleep well." He began to leave as Hans spoke.

"Horatio?"

Relieved, exhausted, and slumping in the chair before the chess set, he looked up. "Yes, Hans?"

Hans rested his head once more on his father's shoulder as he was carried off, smiling weakly. "Can you read another one tomorrow?"

**A/N: So what did you think? We never really got to see much of Horatio yet in Frozen Hearts, so I thought giving him a little more time to shine might be nice! I'm probably going to do more of these in the future and hey, if one of you readers has a prompt/name of a brother/ a situation you want to see acted out, feel free to PM it to me or leave it in your review and I may use it! **


	2. Dual Dilemma

**A/N: My second ficlet inspired by two particular thoughts: a comment about the twins of the Southern Isles family, as well as a love for Heins and his choice of career. (Again taking place after the incident) Let's jump right in.**

**Alskling= "loved one" in Swedish.**

**Dual Dilemma**

"But why _can't_ I watch?" Heins struggled in his older brother's grip, tugging back towards the direction of the dressmaker's room, who was occupied with making a new gown for his mother. "I just want to see how it's made!"

"_No_," came a very firm reply from Harken, jerking his little brother's arm and lifting him a foot or so off the floor by his wrist for a moment. "Stop struggling."

"Ouch!" Heins exclaimed, wiggling wildly in the air until he was plopped back down unceremoniously. "Stop it, you're hurting me!"

Harken's lips twitched into a half-smile and he snorted, lifting his little brother in his arms and throwing him over his shoulder like a sack of oats. "I've seen what they do to the prisoners in the dungeon, little brother. Believe me when I say I am not hurting you." A small hand tugged on his hair and pushed against his head, jutting it to the side; Heins tried his best to escape his older brother's clutches. Harken's smile quickly switched into a grimace and he growled quietly. "But I'm growing tempted."

"Take me back, take me back!" Heins lamented with a whine, tears beginning to fill his eyes. "I never get to see them making clothes, never!"

"I told mother I was fetching you and I'm going to fetch you. If I have to hogtie you and drag you back to her I will. Is that what you want?" Harken snapped, tightening his grip around his brother's waist.

By this point Heins was beyond reasoning with and the tears began to fall unheeded down his face. Harken sighed with annoyance and adjusted his hold so Heins was able to lean against his chest. He walked in silence until they'd reached the queen's room, where he rapped with his foot.

"Come in," came the musical voice of Allowyn, who was in the midst of affixing some strands of her shimmery red hair into an intricate updo.

Harken walked inside and dumped his younger brother in a pile on his mother's bed, crossing his arms over his chest as he faced her. "I found him," he stated plainly.

"Mama!" Heins exclaimed, holding out his arms for comfort, the sight of his mother triggering fresh tears brimming in his eyes.

"Oh, my poor baby!" Allowyn dropped her brush with a clatter and rushed to her son's side, her hair falling in a tangle of pins and half-wound braids as she gathered him into a warm, tender embrace, stroking his brown hair back. "My sweet heart, my alskling, what's wrong?"

Heins buried his face in his mother's dress and wiped at his tears, taking solace in her comforting touch. His words came as short hiccups, breathless as he panted them out between gasps. "Harken... took me... away! Before I could see them... make the dress!"

"Oh, oh, oh, it's alright," Allowyn soothed, rocking back and forth with her son in her arms. "Listen to me, it's alright... there will be another dress, I promise..." She shot a scathing look towards her older son. "Harken, why must you be so rough with your brother? He's only a little boy!"

If Harken was affected by his mother's chastisement, it did not show on his stony face. "You asked me to find him and bring him to you, so I did, mother. Didn't I do as you asked?"

Allowyn's looked at her son in silence, her disappointment clear. Finally, she motioned for his leave, speaking as she did. "Harken, you must be more gentle with your brothers. The next time I ask you to fetch me one of them, please remember what I've asked you."

"Yes, mother." Harken turned on heel and left her room, rounding the corner.

Allowyn busied herself with retying Heins' frazzled tiny ponytail, her fingers smoothing over the silk ribbon holding it in place and rising as she left Heins on her bedspread. She walked over to a bowl of clean, cool water by her mirror and wrung out a small washcloth, returning to wipe at her son's tear-stained chubby cheeks. "There, now... we can't have you looking so sad on Mama's birthday, can we?" Heins shook his head as his mother cleaned him, and Allowyn continued, "Especially when we're going to have such a delicious spread of desserts waiting..." Her smile spread as she watched her son's eyes light up. "Now just wait another moment and Mama will finish with her favorite little fashion coordinator."

Heins patiently sat still as Allowyn described that night's dinner, especially detailing the desserts she had requested the cooks to make. "Mama?" he finally ventured as she rose from the bedside.

"Yes, my love?" she asked, returning the cloth to the water.

"Why is Harken so mean?"

Allowyn was quiet for a moment as she debated how best to explain. "Harken acts hard and cruel on the outside, but that does not mean he's the same on the inside." She looked back at her son to see his expression lined in concentration, one hand rubbing his wrist. "Heins, your brother loves you. You must never, ever believe otherwise. We are a family, and family is forged in the bond of a love that is never forgotten."

"Family," Heins repeated to himself, slowly as if he were trying to imprint it on his mind. He looked up at Allowyn. "I should forget his trespess, shouldn't I, Mama?"

"His what?" asked Allowyn, puzzled.

"Like Papa says," began Heins, puffing out his chest and jutting out his chin as he spoke, a hand on his chest, "a prince forgets tresspesses against him... what's a tresspess?"

"Tress_passes_, my love," corrected Allowyn, giggling at the sight of her son mimicing his father. "It means when someone does you wrong."

"Like when Harken hurt me?" Heins asked, carefully shimmying down from his mother's bed.

Allowyn smiled as she bent and gave her son a kiss on the cheek which he willingly accepted. "Exactly." Straightening and letting her hair fall back behind her shoulders, only half in its trademark braid, she held out her hand for her son. "Why don't you come with Mama and tell her all about what happened while we go and see how your father's business is coming? You know how he often runs late without someone to check on his progress."

Heins nodded as he took her hand and they began to walk together, finishing telling her his woes. "I was trying to see them making your new dress, Mama... if I want to make clothes, don't I have to see how dresses are made?"

"Yes, I suppose you would," Allowyn replied gently. She had spoken to George about Heins' hopes for his future and her husband had immediately dismissed the thought. Having Heins blurt out such a strange and comical choice of career in front of visiting dignitaries had earned a few chuckles and secretive teases of the Southern Isles, but otherwise had done no harm. Her husband had thought it nothing more than a passing spark of interest. Since then, Heins had only shown a deepening desire to learn about clothing. It was beginning to be worrisome for her husband. She squeezed his hand. "You'll have a chance to show your talent, my love... your time will come." She cocked her head as she heard shouting at the end of the hall. "Oh, dear..." Heins ran ahead of her to listen in on the commotion.

**#**

As Allowyn and nearby servants predicted, things were not so peaceful in the shared room of the twins. "You used my socks, Hedvil! _Again!_"

"Well, how can I tell the difference when everything we own, literally, _everything_, is exactly alike? The only way we can tell each other apart is by our hair," replied Hedvil, running a hand through his longer hair free from its ponytail, tossing duplicate outfits behind him. "For that matter, how can _you_ tell the difference between our clothes? These could be _my_ socks for all you know!"

"Because unlike you, I don't go tromping around everywhere in them! That's what shoes are for," retorted his brother, running a comb through his shorter locks in front of the bureau mirror.

"It's not as if it makes much of a difference to anyone else, is it?" Hedvil said, finally choosing an outfit and popping his head through the hole of the shirt. "If we dressed alike and our hair was the same length, no one would be able to tell us apart- say, I rather like that idea!" he exclaimed with a smile.

"What?" Henning asked.

"We should dress exactly alike, cut my hair, and claim to be each other! We'd fool everybody!" Hedvil dug through his clothes until he found the copy of his current clothes, holding it out to his brother.

"Do you really think so?" Henning questioned, approaching his twin and taking the offered shirt, holding it up to himself.

"Absolutely!" Hedvil clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Come on, don't be a spoilsport!"

"Oh... alright." Henning mumbled, sliding the shirt on over his head and following his brother's lead. "But if we get in trouble, I'm blaming you."

"I'll say I got the idea from you. You're older, you should be responsible," Hedvil teased, rummaging through his desk until he pulled out a pair of scissors.

"Older? Maybe by a few minutes!" exclaimed Henning, accepting them and holding his brother's ponytail out behind him.

Before Hedvil could respond, there was a knock on the door and Allowyn's voice came from beyond it. "Hedvil? Henning? May I come in? Your voices are carrying down the hall."

"Sorry!" There was a quick snip, a little ruffling of their hair, and the twins tossed one another pieces of clothing as they dressed. By the time they opened the door, the only one who could have told them apart was their Maker.

"Oh…" Allowyn looked from one to the other, stunned. She'd gotten used to telling the twins apart by the hair length, Hedvil having the longer, and Henning the shorter, but today they were stunningly alike. "Is… everything alright? Your hair…"

"Doesn't it look wonderful?" they both chimed. Hedvil grinned as he stepped forward. "Mother, can't you tell a difference between _Hedvil _and I?"

"I… you both look quite similar today, I'm afraid. Would you like to tell me why, Henning?" Allowyn asked, taking note of the amused glint in her son's eye.

"I suppose we just felt like testing you in your older age," Hedvil remarked with a hidden snort of laughter. "How are things coming along for your party?"

"Well enough, scamp," Allowyn said, crossing her arms. "We were just about to go check on your father's business. Would you like to come?" She scanned their room and the mess of clothing strewn about the floor. "What have I told you about keeping your room tidy?"

"So sorry, mother. We'll clean it up straightaway," said the other twin, bending over and picking up a pair of pants to set over the top of the bed. "Though I doubt the maids will bother sorting it between the both of us. You gave us both the same clothes, after all."

Allowyn detected a hint of negative emotion with her son's words, could it have been bitterness? She'd always thought the way they looked alike was endearing, even cute. Heins, who was always eager to help, was entertaining himself by picking up his brother's clothing, stuffing socks in his pockets. As she watched his efforts, she noticed he soon had enough draped over him to resembling a living pile of fabrics, half of his face covered in a pant leg, arms full of shirts half-dragging on the ground. She laughed softly and knelt beside him, folding the few pieces of clothing and setting them down on the closest bed. "Alright then," she said, as she finished clearing her younger son of the clothes. "Let's go see your father."

**#**

"I like to think we don't _need_ Weselton at this point in order to meet our quota for winter stock, not when we've had such success with our farming this year," the king said, turning to one of his advisors. "Had they been desperate for trade, things would be different, but I don't like how the country keeps pushing itself into everyone's affairs as if they're trying to cut in on a dance."

"That is true, your majesty," agreed one of the men around the table proudly. "We are able to feed the people and maintain a steady profit with our current trade ratios without Weselton."

"And what of Weselton?" the king asked.

The advisor glanced up from papers and blinked. "Your highness?"

"What of Weselton? Can their people survive without our trade this year?" the king repeated.

"O-Our research shows that they are perfectly capable of surviving without our assistance. The only damage done would be to Weselton's pride should we refuse to resign the trade contract for this year," the advisor stammered.

"Trade affects more than simply our own country, Gilliham," George said. "Our first priority is to our people, but I will do what I can to see other countries do not go hungry. You see, in times of trouble it is far wiser to have more friends than enemies. If we're certain they can survive without our input, have the contract dissuaded for this year. Perhaps Weselton will learn they cannot force the hand of every country." George leaned thoughtfully on an elbow. _I don't particularly care much for the name, either…reminds me of things better left forgotten. _

"Are we interrupting?" Allowyn asked, entering the room. "Should we leave, dear?"

"You? Never." George smiled and rose, causing his advisors to do the same. "The best interruption I could have is hearing your sweet voice." He walked over to his wife and gave her a kiss on the cheek, turning back to his advisors and waving them off. "I think that will do for now. I must turn my attention on family matters. As anyone knows, a king may run his kingdom..." He smiled wryly at Allowyn, "but a queen runs her king."

"Oh, you." Allowyn stroked his arm as they exited of the room for official business.

Henning and Hedvil both bowed their heads in greeting. "Good day, father."

"What's this? Am I seeing double?" George looked from one of his sons to the other.

"No, just keeping mother on her toes, father. Surely you recognize which one of your sons I am!" Hedvil exclaimed, still smiling as he stepped forward. George hesitated, looking to his wife for a silent prompt of assistance, but her stunned, helpless look left him empty of clues. Hedvil pursed his lips. "Henning, father?" he hinted.

"Yes, yes, of course!" George exclaimed, patting his son on the shoulder. "I knew it was you! How could I forget any of my children?"

This remark seemed to have a profound effect on the young man as Hedvil's smile suddenly drooped into a small frown. "Yes… how could you forget?"

"Papa!" exclaimed Heins, walking up to the towering figure of the king and hugging his leg. "What about me!"

"There is my young prince Heins…" George bent over and picked up his son, holding him in one arm. "What have you been doing today?"

"Wellll…" Heins said, drawing it out and taking a deep breath, "I tried to watch the seamstresses who were making Mama's dress only Harken came and picked me up and he was being really mean when he held me by the wrist because it hurt but then Mama made it better and said there would be other dresses!"

"Quite the busy beaver, weren't you?" George mumbled, making no further comment on the matter. His meaningful look towards his wife silently sent the message they would speak in private later. "Your mother and I should be checking on the progress of the cooks, shouldn't we? Or have you already?"

"Not yet," Allowyn said with a small smile. "I know how much you like testing the desserts yourself to be sure they're worthy."

"This is true," George admitted, setting his son down beside him. "Let's go together. After all, two tasters are better than one." A soft, hopeful inhale brought his attention to Heins. "Or three," he corrected, pausing as he thought of the twins and then adding again, "or five." He laughed quietly as he began to walk in the direction of the kitchens, his wife's arm in his. "At this rate, dessert will be gone before you even get to blow out the candles."

As the two headed on with their children behind, Heins hesitated, looking behind him. The twins had not followed. Confused that his brothers weren't close behind when promised early dessert, he peeked around the corner, where the two lingered.

"Did you hear what he said?" Hedvil asked his brother, his face downcast. "He said he'd never forget us… but did you see how quickly he agreed I was you?"

"Are you thinking… what I'm thinking?" Henning asked.

"Time to call it quits," Hedvil said with a nod. "I thought… it would be fun to pretend to be each other, but… but when your own father can't tell the difference between you… winning at your own game feels…"

"Hollow?" Henning suggested. His brother nodded silently. "Come on… we should catch up with Mother and Father. Maybe they can't tell the difference between us… but they'll realize if we're both missing." As they rounded the corner, they were too sidetracked to notice the little boy watching from behind one of the curtains framing the hall windows.

Heins slipped his hands into his pockets and bowed his head. _They sure sounded sad… I wish there was something I could do. _He felt something padding each of his pockets and, startled, removed it, breaking into a smile as he saw what it was. _Maybe there is!_

**#**

Half an hour later, Heins was streaming through the halls of the castle, skirmishing through the legs of servants and siblings alike as he headed for the kitchens, hoping his family was still there.

"Whoah!" Horatio barely managed to avoid falling over, a pile of books tumbling to the floor as Heins dashed around him exiting the library. "Hey! Watch where you're going!"

"Sorry!" Heins called over his shoulder, disappearing around the corner and coming to a panting stop inside the kitchen.

"Well, well, well! What's all the hurry?" George asked, just finishing congratulating the cooks on the job well done. "Why so out of breath?"

"I… was making… something… for Henning and Hedvil!" Heins managed with a few gasps for breath.

"For us?" Both of the twins asked, chocolate around each of their mouths as they blinked.

"Yeah!" Heins jogged over to them and dug into his pockets, holding out two pairs of socks, one an eyecatching bright orange and the other a lilac-colored purple. "For you!"

"What are those?" asked the king, voicing the twins' thoughts before they had a chance.

Heins rocked on his heels before answering. "I… I thought that you might want different colored socks so… um… I can tell you apart easier."

"Where… did you get those?" the king asked, tilting his head.

"I… I made them," Heins said in a small voice. "With dye… from the seamstress's supplies."

"You made those… for us?" Hedvil accepted the pair of orange socks and held them out to examine them, Henning doing the same with the purple.

"What have I told you about going into that room without supervision?" George asked, his voice disappointed. "You are not to be meddling in those supplies."

Heins bowed his head. "But I just thought they might want some different things, too. Instead of the same things. Because they're not the same." George was silent for a moment, as if considering what his response should be, when the twins spoke up.

"He's right, Father." Hedvil scratched the back of his neck. "We… well, I, had the idea of us trying to be the same to confuse you and see if you could tell us apart, and when you couldn't… I thought it would be fun. But it… wasn't really. This…" He looked at Heins and smiled. "It means a lot. Thanks, little brother."

"Yeah," Henning agreed, clapping a hand on his twin's shoulder. "Now we can always tell whose socks are whose."

"And we don't have to keep people guessing who's who." Hedvil hesitated for a moment, and grinned devilishly. "Unless we change our minds."

**A/N: Well, that was a nice little side trip! Heins you are so cute. I just want to pinch your chubby cheeks, but I guess I have to leave it to Helena.**


End file.
